Views From Medicine Spirit Ranchhttps://tomhuttonmd.com
Medicine and Ranch LivingFri, 06 Sep 2019 16:03:04 +0000en
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1 http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/81c74185f83facd34930ab4e3ac6690e?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs0.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngViews From Medicine Spirit Ranchhttps://tomhuttonmd.com
Air Mailed By A Cowhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/09/06/air-mailed-by-a-cow/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/09/06/air-mailed-by-a-cow/#commentsFri, 06 Sep 2019 16:03:04 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=3103While the event to be described happened sometime ago, writing about it before now proved impossible, as it was just too painful. Let me assure you that as a cattle rancher, this was not my finest moment.

The cow in question is #36 or as I refer of her as “the tongue.” She is a large Black Baldy cow with a protruding tongue problem. You see, her tongue hangs out of her mouth about eight inches and dangles to the right. Even my veterinarian had not seen a cow with a problem like this one. The vet concluded that the tongue must work, as she is hardly malnourished.

Perhaps it was her slightly goofy appearance that gave me my false sense of security. Rather than focusing on her tongue, strikingly pendulous as it was, I should have noticed the suspicious gleam in her evil bovine eye. Surely that would have put me on guard, if I’d only been sufficiently observant.

#36- The Tongue

In truth “the tongue” had previously been a good cow. This attribute of goodness I define as placid, a good mother to her calves, and gentle to be around. The latter criterion is the one for which I was in serious error.

My ranch hand, Juan, and I decided to vaccinate her calf in the pasture. It was several days old. We chose to do this rather than running the whole herd through the cattle chute and separate the calf from its mother. Let’s just say our plan was expedient rather than clever.

Juan who is handy with a lasso did his roping thing, and I ran merrily in with the syringe in hand and proceeded to give the calf its necessary vaccination- subcutaneously mind you, as it is less painful. Meanwhile Mama cow stood nearby seemingly showing little interest and no apparent animosity. Or so I thought. I suppose her baleful stare, in retrospect, should have tipped me off to her explosive temper.

Suddenly and just after withdrawing the syringe, I look up and Mama Cow, the tongue, is barreling toward me as fast as a 1400 pound cow can move. Seeing I am in imminent danger of becoming roadkill, I began to backpedal as fast as my aging legs would allow. The tongue then stuck her head in my plump and ample midsection and launched me high into the air, airmailing me about twenty feet away and into a pile of cattle dung and wedged against a barbed wire fence. Whether she ran over me, I honestly can’t say, as the pain resulting from the hard landing was simply too intense and distracting. Houston, we have a problem!

There I laid amid the cow patties, lying on the packed earth that was softened only with aromatic dry cow patties. Try as I might, I could not overcome the pain in my hips and shoulder sufficiently to regain my feet. I think I did glance at the cow to make sure she was no longer in full combat mode. By this time she had herded up her calf, paying me no more attention than she did a nearby rock pile.

Finally I struggled to my feet. I did this by holding onto the barbed wire fence which is not a particularly comfortable source of support. Juan by then had reached me and was in full apology mode. This was not at all necessary, as Juan had done nothing wrong, but rather it was my judgment that had been lacking.

After regaining a somewhat clearer head, I asked Juan to fetch my pickup from the barn. With effort I drug my pained body into the cab of the pickup. I slowly set out over bumpy roads for my house and called ahead to Trudy, asking, if on my arrival, she might help me out of the truck. When I reached the driveway, there Trudy stood awaiting me and wearing a concerned look on her face.

It’s at times like this when you find out if your spouse truly loves you. There I was covered in cow manure, groaning like a woman in end stage labor, bleeding from multiple scrapes, and hobbled by substantial pain. To cut to the chase, X-rays later showed no broken bones, but I had narrowed my shoulder joint and developed rotator cuff symptoms. These have improved over the last month and mostly only bothers me now if I attempt to elevate my right arm above my shoulder. My walking was limited for awhile but fortunately healing has occurred and the bruising has subsided.

Admittedly I sometimes think back to my career as a neurologist and recall that not once, not a single time, was I injured swinging a reflex hammer! Since retiring I’ve been pitched from a horse and broken my arm, blew out a disc in my back requiring surgery after man-hauling a stump from the creek, and sustained a compound fracture of a finger after being hit by a wayward golf ball. Retirement is not for sissies!

Despite my injury prone retirement, I’ve simply loved it. I only hope I can stand up to the physical wear and tear. i have determined henceforth I will run every calf through the chute, separating the calf from a potentially overprotective mama cow. This might be good in the long term to prolonging my life as a rancher.

#36 chewing her cud and even then with tongue hanging out

Also the mama cow and I have come to an understanding. I recognize she was only protecting her calf and she appears to be her old docile self. She will be sticking around the ranch. Now, if #36 will only stop sticking her tongue out at me!

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/09/06/air-mailed-by-a-cow/feed/3tomhuttonmdA Mysterious Rodent Infestationhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/08/11/a-mysterious-rodent-infestation/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/08/11/a-mysterious-rodent-infestation/#commentsSun, 11 Aug 2019 20:19:42 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=3026Years ago my younger brother Jim undertook a school science project that involved white mice. In retrospect Jim admits the science was weak, but as he vaguely recalls, it had something to do with the impact of nutrition on white mice. He doesn’t recall his experiment finding anything of substance, but he does recall, to his surprise, just how rapidly the white mice multiplied. Clearly the nutrition provided in no way hindered their reproduction.

By the time the project ended some months later, the white mice had multiplied at an incredible rate, something to the tune of doubling every three and a half seconds! By the time Jim had written the paper and turned it in for a grade, he had lost all possible interest in his little white critters with the pink eyes. (Of course puberty has a substantial effect on the interests of young males.) The same declining interest as was shown by my brother could not be said for our alarmed mother and father.

The white mice, having little else to do, continued to multiply at a prodigious rate. Suddenly our four bedroom, ranch style home became crowded with cardboard boxes, each brimming with scurrying white mice. You see, neither Jim nor anyone else in the family had considered what was to be done with the mice after the project was completed. With the rapid increase in numbers of the white mice and brother Jim’s interests by then laying elsewhere, my mother and father experienced a severe case of rodent angst.

Being kind people, no one would consider euthanasia of the cute little pink eyed critters. Nevertheless, their rapidly increasing numbers screamed out for a solution- any solution, and soon.

During one of his long airline trips, my father ruminated on the rapidly growing self-inflicted mouse problem. Dad, you see, served as a commercial airline pilot who experienced long hours of extreme boredom in the cockpit, intermixed with moments of sheer terror. That flight, however, proved routine and provided time for him to surface a drastic solution. On returning home that night from his trip, he undertook loading the numerous mouse boxes into his car. How many trips this took I cannot recall, nor would Dad ever provide such damning details (you can only trust a family so far).

In any event Dad drove about the darkened neighborhoods of Richardson, Texas. Out of view of the prying eyes of neighbors, he skulked around, distributing white mice to all corners here and far of our previously peaceful and rodent-free hometown. No doubt the sudden invasion of white mice in the days that followed provoked concern and substantial conjecture. Our family, however, was sworn to silence and no one in Family Hutton would let on from whence the white mice came.

To this day I’m sure some of the old timers in Richardson still talk about that time way back then when Richardson was invaded by a virtual torrent of white mice. Theories remain as to what environmental or Biblical plaque had struck our bedroom community that lay near Dallas. I imagine the rock-ribbed Southern Baptists are still railing against the evils of alcohol and dancing that brought on that infestation of white mice.

After 50 years of family silence, a little honesty seems called for. Yes, the family Hutton in the person of my Dad released the critters. His rationale was that this approach gave them a chance to survive in the wild (even then Richardson wasn’t really that wild) but desperation caused him to deem it a good idea. In addition the local cats and snakes likely enjoyed a hunting season like none they had never experienced before.

“What a good stroke of fortune”

I offer this long overdue mea culpa on behalf of my family just in case someone out there has a child or grandchild who might be considering a science project. Trust me, it is a foolish idea to ever, ever involve white mice!

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/08/11/a-mysterious-rodent-infestation/feed/4tomhuttonmdAuslander Ranchershttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/07/25/auslander-ranchers/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/07/25/auslander-ranchers/#respondThu, 25 Jul 2019 17:26:14 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2806I received the lovely photograph (see below) from a friend and amateur photographer, Jim Harris. In truth the picture was taken of a woman in chaps from New Mexico, but it fits well our local situation. Many folks moving into the Texas Hill Country bring with them their lifestyles and fashions.

Branding In Style

The photograph depicts this aspect nicely. You can notice the clean red ostrich boots on this well-dressed lady rancher. If you look closely, you will notice a diamond bracelet on her wrist. She is, nevertheless, wielding the branding iron with an air of competence and determination. Her dress is not the usual dress of our locals who typically wear worn out jeans, muddy work boots, pearl button shirts, and beat up cowboy hats.

Gillespie County, the county in which Fredericksburg is located, continues to have agriculture as its number one industry. Admittedly, this distinction has been helped of late by the 100 or so wineries and vineyards that have flocked to our area. Gillespie county ranchers continue to raise many cattle, goats, and sheep.

Being a newly minted rancher back in 2001, I felt the probing and suspicious eyes of my fellow ranchers when I attended Field Days or other agricultural events. I was, after all, a newbie and likely seen as an Auslander with questionable intent. I certainly lacked ranching experience. In any event after eighteen years, Trudy and I feel better integrated and believe we do a reasonable job ranching cattle. Nevertheless, this picture reminds me of the social divide and suspicion we felt in those early days after moving in at Medicine Spirit Ranch.

Have you ever experienced similar cultural divides? Would love to hear from you.

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/07/25/auslander-ranchers/feed/0tomhuttonmdThe Nutria Are Coming, The Nutria Are Cominghttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/05/10/the-nutria-are-coming-the-nutria-are-coming/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/05/10/the-nutria-are-coming-the-nutria-are-coming/#commentsFri, 10 May 2019 14:59:33 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2747Not long ago I spied a medium-sized brown animal swimming languidly in my pond. At first I thought the animal was a beaver. How wonderful, I thought, for our stock tank to be a home for a beaver. After all, who doesn’t love those industrious, furry little flat-tailed creatures?

On closer inspection I saw that while the head looked like that of a beaver, its tail was not flat nor paddle shaped but instead bore the look of a rat’s tail. With a little research, I learned the identity of the interloping animal- it was a nutria.

Brown furry nutria

I began to read about nutria. From my reading I sensed an existential dread associated with nutria. I learned it was an invasive species and fully worthy of eradication. For me, a man of peace, the thought of shooting or trapping nutria was hard to accept. After all, I had spent a professional lifetime trying to preserve life in my chosen profession of medicine, such that killing simply doesn’t come naturally for me. Trapping of the nutria also made no sense either, as once trapped what was I to do with the despised animals?

Little Jack does not share my concerns regarding the killing of varmints. He in fact specializes in squirrels and armadillos

Nutria are an invasive species brought to Louisiana from South America in the 1930s. Some 20 animals were transplanted to begin fur farms so that their pelts could be made into hats and muffs. After the craze for nutria fur subsided, however, and the fur mills disappeared, these semi-aquatic rodents scampered and swam into the Louisiana swamps where they bred like crazy. Their initial numbers increased dramatically, having up to three litters per year and up to 13 pups at a time. It is now estimated that in the U.S.A. some 20 million nutria exist and are spreading out from Louisiana in a rapidly expanding rodent infestation. Texas is affected, your state may also be impacted or else may be soon.

Already nutria have spread to the northwest portion of the U.S. and as far as California. In California the threat they pose to the wetlands is said to be equal of the threat that wildfires have for the State.

What makes nutria so feared is that they eat water plants, both root and stem. Nutria will completely destroy water plants , creating an ugly “eaten out” and useless body of water. They are destructive little beasts with voracious appetites.

One of the stranger features of nutria are their stubby orange hooked front teeth. The orangeness comes from the dental enamel that makes nutria easily recognizable. They look to have been drinking Tang. Anyone remember this drink?

Note the distinctive orange teeth.

The dramatic increase in the number of nutria along with their wholesale destruction of aquatic plants in the bayous and estuaries of Louisiana led in 1958 to a bounty being placed on thm. Louisiana paid $5 per tail for the nutria. Over time the bounty system led to a reduction in their numbers. Nevertheless, the remaining tail-less carcass often was often thrown into the water, reducing the water’s oxygen content and negatively affecting the fish. This consequence led folks to question whether the nutria’s lean protein source could be used in some other way, such as a source of food. Might some other practical use for nutria be found?

Admittedly, the idea of promoting and selling nutria as a meat source has proved challenging. The critters have mistakenly been called “river rats” rather than the rodents they truly are. Who would wish to eat a rat? Nutria actually are more like squirrels which in some parts of the country remains a food source. Various chefs have come up with dishes using nutria. Nutria spaghetti casserole has been suggested and nutria meat has been mixed with pork to make sausage. It also has been used in dog treats.

Despite the influx in recent years of nutria into the State of Texas, to my knowledge no bounty system has been established at least in our County, nor have I seen a nutria dish on the menu of any restaurant I frequent. If nutria are to be controlled either a bounty or some practical use will need to be found.

Not long ago I asked my lovely wife, Trudy, if I were to shoot a nutria if she would cook it? Her disgusted look spoke volumes. I didn’t even make it to the part in my spiel, saying how it was gluten-free and low in cholesterol. No, I can’t see nutria or even squirrel being served at the Hutton house any time soon.

A company in Louisiana has also tried to push the use of its fur again and calls its product “righteous fur.” It has lined mini-skirts and has been fashioned into neck wraps. The orange nutria teeth have also been utilized in jewelry making. I don’t know if any of these practical uses for nutria products will catch on but without some practical reason to hunt or trap this critter, I fear for my home State of Texas. I also worry as well for other States and worry for the rest of our country as to what is yet to come. Beware, the nutria are coming, the nutria are coming!

Do the readers of this blog have problems with nutria where they live?

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/05/10/the-nutria-are-coming-the-nutria-are-coming/feed/5tomhuttonmdElephants, Oh Myhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/04/19/elephants-oh-my/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/04/19/elephants-oh-my/#commentsFri, 19 Apr 2019 18:35:13 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2745Spring has arrived in the Texas Hill Country and along with it has come an influx of surprising new animal arrivals; the most unusual of which we recently visited at the Hill Country Elephant Preserve.

Just north of Stonewall, Texas a charming, hard working married couple totally devoted to elephants is building a preserve for elephants. At present they have five female Asian elephants that regularly put on educational shows that are truly awe-inspiring.

The elephants follow voice commands, do tricks, promenade, and entertain. One of them comically steals food from the others. They are Asian elephants with only about 35,000 of their species remaining in the world. You can identify an Asian elephant by its smaller ears as compared to African elephants their rounded backs, and distinctive heads.

The preserve consists of 57 acres designed to provide the elephants a home in which to live out their long lives in comfort and serenity. The cost to feed and keep an elephant is substantial. Hence, the necessity of the admission fee for those attending the shows at The Preserve.

The time spent taking care of the elephants by the owners of The Preserve and their helpers is substantial, beginning shortly after dawn and going until dusk. Keeping an elephant translates to a lot more work than it would for keeping a dog or a cat.

Trudy and I recommend a visit to The Preserve, 650 Double Horn Road listed as Fredericksburg but it is really much closer to Stonewall. The shows are given on weekends and holidays and book up early as a waiting list exists. It is well worth the price of admission. Their phone number is 830-992-0373.

We have a mostly white donkey (burro) who hangs out just over our neighbor’s fence. This little guy is extremely friendly but lonesome as it tries very hard to herd up with our horses. Our neighbor rescued the donkey, as he was not proving useful as a guard donkey and had no other particular skills to merit its feed and upkeep.

Dandy, our large red gelding, especially likes the burro whose name I’ve not yet learned. Dandy and the burro tend to go nose to nose at the fence line, as if sharing secrets. Fancy, our paint mare, on the other hand tends to bare her teeth at the burro and appears jealous of Dandy’s interest in the little fellow.

The donkey apparently is a Nubian donkey as it has a cross on its back (see below). This being Palm Sunday, I wished to share the following touching story (credit given)

Legend of the donkey’s cross

(originally posted by Morning Bray)

A poor farmer near Jerusalem owned a donkey far too small to do much work at all. He felt that he couldn’t afford to feed a worthless animal like this, one that could do him no good whatsoever, so at the supper table he told his family that he was going to kill the donkey.

His children, who loved the little donkey, begged him to sell it rather than harm it. But the farmer said, “It’s wrong to sell an animal that can’t do a good day’s work.”

Then his oldest daughter suggested, “Father, tie the donkey to a tree on the road to town, and say whoever wants it may take it for nothing.” And the next morning, that’s what the farmer did.

Soon, two men approached and asked if they could have the donkey. “It can carry almost nothing,” the farmer warned them.

“Jesus of Nazareth has need of it,” replied one of the men. The farmer couldn’t imagine what a great teacher would want with such a worthless donkey, but he handed it over.

The men took the animal to Jesus, who stroked the grateful donkey’s face and then mounted it and rode away. So it was on the day we call Palm Sunday, Jesus led his followers into the city of Jerusalem riding on the back of a small, common donkey.

The donkey so loved his gentle master that he later followed him to Calvary. Grief-stricken by the sight of Jesus on the cross, the donkey turned away but couldn’t leave. It was then that the shadow of the cross fell upon the shoulders and back of the donkey, and there it stayed. All donkeys have borne the sign of the cross on their backs since that very day.

So there it is, a Nubian donkey with a cross on its back here in the Texas Hill Country; a donkey like the one Jesus rode on into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday i. You just can never be sure of the potential worth an animal. For that matter we can never be sure what its human companions might also provide the world. Easter Blessings!

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/04/14/donkeys-with-crosses-and-palm-sunday/feed/2tomhuttonmddonkey crosspalm-sunday-jesus-on-donkeyJesusMorning Symphonyhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/02/24/morning-symphony/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/02/24/morning-symphony/#commentsSun, 24 Feb 2019 20:17:10 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2636Trudy and I continue to “camp out” in our guesthouse while our home undergoes renovation and restoration. Because of a flood, our wooden floors required replacing and we had to move out for three weeks. While we were at it, we decided to do a bit of updating as well. Fortunately we had a guesthouse to move into rather than having to move to a motel (a dog friendly one, of course). We plan on moving back to our usual house in just a few days. Hoorah!

While we have felt frustration over our inability to access certain items, my morning routine has remained unchanged. It begins with a canine symphony, or should I call it a canine cacophony?

You see, after I shower and begin to dress for the day, my two Border collies, Bandit and Bella, begin barking like crazed dogs. They become so excited by the prospect of going out onto the ranch. They are not at all patient

“Two-footed humans sure move slowly!”

.

Jack, our little brown dog, appears nonplussed by the whole matter. If anything Jack places himself between the Borders and me, attempting to prevent the overly excited collies from jumping up while I totter about on one leg, putting on my jeans.

I am a good dog in the morning, not like those noisy Border collies.”

I’ve found that the barking of the Border collies cannot be suppressed. I try repeatedly to shush them verbally, but to no avail. I even resort to gently squeezing their jaws together. Nothing works. Bella, bless her little canine heart, has even taken to nipping at my legs (very disconcerting for me), if I don’t move along at her desired pace. She clearly herds me in the direction of the pickup and becomes visibly frustrated if I need to double back.

Unfortunately, even on reaching the pickup, the morning symphony of dog barking doesn’t stop. My good neighbor and friend, Tom Norris, says he can always tell where I am on the ranch because of the dogs’ barking. You see, sounds carries very well in Live Oak Valley.

I suppose my dogs’ barking is a new form of G.P.S., i.e. godawful pet sounds! Or maybe it should be C.P.S, Canine Positioning System. Eventually the dogs stop barking, although I suspect it may be because of doggie hoarseness.

My frequency of blog posting (and FB posting) has slowed lately. This absence results from the time I’ve devoted to writing another book. I am entering the final phases of finishing my next book (well prior to sending it off to potential agents and publishers and the lengthy process that is sure to follow). My book is tentatively titled Hitler: Prescription for Defeat.

The book seeks to answer the “Holy Grail” of questions about Hitler- that is, what was it that affected his reasoning to the extent that he made such colossal blunders in judgement toward the end of World War II. The premise of my book is that Hitler’s failing health and abnormal personality largely explain his errors in judgment and aided the Allies in achieving victory. The book goes into Hitler’s major and minor illnesses along with describing his unusual personality characteristics and how these aspects worked against him. His health is spliced into a number of the major battles of World War II. Wish me luck!

I have received feedback from my beta readers on Hitler: Prescription For Defeat and have made the necessary edits. I feel so grateful for the time and expertise of Janet, LaNelle, Tom, and Madeline for carrying out this helpful task. Thank you. Extra sets of eyes prove very useful!

By the way, if you haven’t had a chance to read my first book, Carrying The Black Bag: A Neurologist’s Bedside Tales, I hope you will pick it up at your favorite bookstore or order a copy. The book has won awards, and received generous comments from Amazon readers. These reviews on Amazon are extremely welcome and encouraging.

My absolute favorite feedback about Carrying The Black Bag came in the form of a picture from a family member who was at the time training as a Pediatric surgical nurse.

Taylor McNeill, a surgical nurse and dear niece, reading my book between cases

The days at Medicine Spirit Ranch are lengthening and warming, and it won’t be long until Central Texas looks like the picture below. Spring with the wildflowers is hard to beat!

Bluebonnets and Paints

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/02/24/morning-symphony/feed/1tomhuttonmdCarrying the Black Bag bookThis young reader gave me a great morale boost by reading my book between surgical casesThe Lunar Eclipse and Blood Moonhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/30/the-lunar-eclipse-and-blood-moon/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/30/the-lunar-eclipse-and-blood-moon/#respondWed, 30 Jan 2019 20:23:33 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2627Like many of you, Trudy and I recently stayed up late to witness the lunar eclipse and “Blood Moon.” Received spectacular pictures of this from Bruce Frels, brother to good friend and retired Dentist, Buddy Frels. Bruce is a professional photographer and captured these images. This is what the night sky looked like over Medicine Spirit Ranch.
Hope the quality shows up for these really amazing photos. Here goes!

I hope this provides you with the same sense of awe I experienced. One advantage of living out in the country is very little light pollution. It makes witnessing such scenes as this really speccial. Hope you enjoy the sight.

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/30/the-lunar-eclipse-and-blood-moon/feed/0tomhuttonmdMy Friend: The Great Blue Heronhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/15/my-friend-the-great-blue-heron/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/15/my-friend-the-great-blue-heron/#commentsTue, 15 Jan 2019 13:47:52 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2615Okay, okay calling the Great Blue Heron a friend just might be an overstatement, but developments of late have made me wonder.

Great Blue Heron in flight

Over the last few years I’ve written several times about a Great Blue Heron that frequents our stock tank and how he waits patiently for me to toss out fish food. I’ve referred to this as my “chumming for heron.” After I retreat a safe distance, the heron flies in on magnificent wings and and crouches waiting for a fish to swim by, or else dives from five to ten feet into the pond to retrieve his meal.

In this almost daily feeding ritual, the heron is used to my presence. I can now get within twenty yards or so of the Heron before it with its stiff legs struts away or flies away.

For the last several weeks, to my surprise, when I arrive at the large stock tank at our other ranch a mile or two away from the heron’s haunt, the Great Blue Heron flies in to meet me up with me there. He picks a spot to perch on a ledge, the bank of the pond, or on top of a tall tree while I go about throwing out fish food. Again the heron uses my fish feeding as a hunting opportunity.

A strange feeling overcomes me when I see the giant bird circling languidly above. He clearly seems to monitor my terrestrial progress. Previously I’ve written of the many heron myths, all of which indicate the heron predicts good luck. He is almost like a ancient Greek god who follows my actions with interest or at least with mirth. I find myself wondering what he sees from the great heights achieved in his flight. I suspect he has wonderful eyesight, as he can spot a fish several feet below the surface of the pond. While I am pretty sure about his good eyesight, I have no idea about his hearing. Also I’ve never heard him utter a single sound. He is my silent watcher on land, water, and in the air.

The heron shows adaptation, I suppose. He has learned that fishing is more productive after I summon the small fish to the surface of the ponds. Perhaps its behavior is really no different from the cows who carefully attend my coming and will draw near for my spreading of the tasty range cubes. Also the horses on spotting me will actually gallop behind the pickup when they see me heading for their feed trough.

The relationship with the heron represents symbiosis, that is a mutually beneficial relationship between the Great Blue Heron and his human rancher/fish feeder. I know that I sense wonder from the magnificent bird and feel strangely comforted, knowing he silently watches over me, even if just for reasons of hunger. The benefit for the heron is obvious and can be seen by its ample girth.

Whereas privacy remains a concern for many, and people feel they are being watched in public; I sense something different. I sense a benevolent and silent watcher, looking after me. Thank you Great Blue Heron, but leave a few fish for me.

My book is in bookstores or online (or contact me and I’ll send it). If a speaker is needed for your event, contact me as I love to share these stories with others either via print or in person. Keep the book in mind for birthday presents or other gift occasions where you wish to present a positive view of dealing with health issues.

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/15/my-friend-the-great-blue-heron/feed/2tomhuttonmdCarrying the Black Bag bookWrong Way Tom and Trudyhttps://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/02/wrong-way-tom-and-trudy/
https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/02/wrong-way-tom-and-trudy/#respondWed, 02 Jan 2019 15:22:48 +0000http://tomhuttonmd.com/?p=2604In reflecting on 2018, I’ve concluded that Trudy and I must have gone the wrongway or must have taken the wrong path in our lives. Let me explain.

At the beginning of the 20th century 90% of the population of Texas lived in the rural areas and only 10% lived in the cities. By the end of the 20th century these percentages had reversed with 90% of the population of Texas living in urban areas and only 10% living in the country. This trend toward urbanization goes unchecked thus far in the 21st century.

Meanwhile Trudy and I left behind our former homes in the cities (Dallas-area, Lubbock, Houston, Minneapolis, even Moscow and London) where we had lived our entire lives. Instead we went the wrong way and adopted a rural lifestyle living in the countryside outside Fredericksburg ,Texas. Clearly we moved counter current to the usual demographics, but why.?

Moreover, we chose to live on a cattle ranch and raise cattle at a time when the cattle industry has swooned from the greatness of earlier times when cattle allowed Texas to become a wealthy state. We certainly don’t claim the same lifestyle as the frontier ranchers in Texas who lived in fear of marauding Indians, struggled against nature using primitive tools, and made their ranch rounds via horseback rather in a pick up. No, our experiences don’t compare to the difficult frontier days that were depicted in the western movies, but that doesn’t mean our lives are without challenges as this blog has at times depicted.

Buddy and Bella: “No way is this the wrong way. This ranch life is what we were bred for.” Photo by Ramsey

Little Jack: “Hey Pick Up Man, had you not gone the wrong way, I wouldn’t have lived out my story at Medicine Spirit Ranch”

And while some would argue the western myth with its exciting cattle drives and western heroes springs more from Hollywood fantasy than reality, it still fills a void, a yearning, if you will, for a simpler life of raising and moving stock, enjoying good neighbors, and experiencing a simpler, less hectic lifestyle. These are the activities we have enjoyed since moving to Medicine Spirit Ranch.

Perhaps springing from the innate narcissism common in writers, I’ve chosen to share our experiences on this blog. I’ve shared earlier stories of caring for remarkable people who developed neurological disorders, and, in so doing, shared extraordinary experiences that reveal much of what is good about human nature. These stories are in my book, CarryingThe Black Bag: A Neurologists Bedside Tales.

available online or favorite bookstore

I am proud to say it has won several awards:

In a way writing books in the digital age also runs counter culture. Nevertheless, i can think of nothing more pleasing than sharing stories in the hope my readers will gain a modicum of benefit from them.

I am working hard on a second book that time will tell whether it sees the light of day. I have tentatively titled it, Hitler: Prescription For Defeat. In it I’ve tried to bring my medical skills (retired though they may be) to bear on Adolf Hitler’s little known, but serious health issues. Too little attention has been devoted, in my opinion, to how his poor health impacted his leadership in World War II, inadvertently affected the great battles, and assisted the Allies in defeating Nazi Germany. Hopefully 2019 will see me finish the book and move forward toward publication. I’ll soon the manuscript to several wonderful folks willing to serve as my beta readers/ Any encouragement you might offer would be appreciated, or else any advice to move onto other subjects.

Looking forward to 2019, “wrong way Tom and Trudy” will continue to live our rural lifestyle. We’ll continue to enjoy our “wrong way” lifestyle” as well. Also Tom will continue to blog about his observations and experiences at the ranch and elsewhere. And in the meantime from Views From Medicine Spirit Ranch, I extend to you my fondest wishes for your personal successes in 2019. Happy New Year!

]]>https://tomhuttonmd.com/2019/01/02/wrong-way-tom-and-trudy/feed/0tomhuttonmdCarrying the Black Bag book